The Bull That Started It

Cheeseboy, you may want to skip this one. Your wife, however, may enjoy this.

Saturday night Mimi said, "Mom, I saw a commercial on TV and there was this bull thing that you ride with a diaper thing on it. But it wasn't a diaper. What was that thing?"

I tried to play dumb. "What? Like a saddle?"

"No. It was white and it was shaped like it would go on your underwear. Like it would fit between your legs. Do you know what that is?"

"Oh. Yeah. That's something that you use when you are a teenager."

"Well, I saw some at Laurie's house."

"Her teenage sisters probably use them."

"Well, what are they?" she asked.

"It's not something I can't tell you about in just a couple of minutes. We'll have a talk about it tomorrow after church," I'm thinking she'll forget about it by then.

Here's the commercial that caused the premature maturation conversation:

As soon as church was over she threw herself on the couch next to me. "Remember we were going to have that talk?"

So, this is my baby girl, she is only ten years old. She still sleeps with a teddy bear and wants to sit on your lap. She doesn't like boys yet and still likes dolls. Maturation Class isn't until the end of 5th grade. We are not ready for this.

"Those white things are called pads. Usually girls use them when they're teenagers or almost teenagers. You know how ladies are the only ones to have babies?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, inside our bodies is this little nest kind of thing and then the baby comes out of this tube. The nest is about the size of your fist and it's right above your bone right here." I drew her a cartoon of a lady with a cartoon reproductive system. "There's eggs in these little egg sacks and every month they take turns sending an egg to the nest. Our body gets ready to have a baby and if we don't have a baby, then our body has to get rid of the egg. So this stuff comes out of the tube every month for about 3-5 days and it's called a period. It's kind of like bloody snot. That's what we use those pads for."

"Ew."

She was very attentive, it wasn't too medical, I didn't giggle once and I don't think I freaked her out. She was so cute and smiling as we talked and I drew pictures. Thank goodness she didn't ask how the baby got in there.

"So why was there one on that bull?" That's what I want to know.

Surprise Rosebuds

When I was in the bath the other day I was surprised to see.......rosebuds! Not those kind. If we were talking about those kind I would be mentioning the hanging baskets. A coworker gave us some nice homemade bath salts and I knew they had lavender buds in them, but not rosebuds.

Speaking of surprise rosebuds, Mimi once again reminded me that she needed a bra. She said, "Maybe you could take me and I could at least try some on. And then you could go back when I'm not with you and buy it, so they won't know it's for me."

I laugh, "Okay."

"So what size do you think I wear?" she asks.

"I don't know, maybe the same size as me," I say teasingly.

She looks at my chest, as if she hasn't seen it lately, and pulls her head back and says, "Nah uh."

So I guess I'll get one of those little halter thingies to help train her......rosebuds. Have you ever wondered why they call them training bras? What do you train them to do? Sit up pretty? Play dead? Dance? Mine only lay down.

Desperate Parenting

I share this story, which I find humorous now, but oh so far away from humorous ten years ago. Young moms can learn from this, old experienced moms may applaud me. But I survived a son with behavioral problems. I'm not talking normal boy things, I'm talking about me and the principal having a close working relationship. Did I ever tell you about the time in second grade when he peed all over the other boys in the boys' bathroom? I, unfortunately, got to know all of Seth's elementary teachers.

I was the president of our children's program at our church and was holding a meeting at my house. We were planning away when Seth, fourth grade, made a huge scene. I'm talking my face was probably bright red, I was trying very hard not to kill him in front of four other women, he was screaming with his foghorn of a mouth about life not being fair and he's going to run away. I believe I told him he couldn't go outside until he cleaned up the landfill we called his bedroom. He went upstairs and packed his backpack, slamming the door as he left. It was one of those slams where you're amazed every picture didn't fall off the walls. To say the least, I was beside myself in anger. BUT......I had to remain socially respectable. Lucky for him.

When the meeting ended, I had calmed down quite a bit and decided to really dig into Seth. I made a sign and put it on our mailbox in very large letters. It said, "BOYS ROOM FOR RENT. MUST DO CHORES." A couple of neighbors called to find out if we were really renting out a room. (There goes the neighborhood!)

A couple of hours later, Seth returned, sign gone, and he said, "Sorry, Mom" and gave me a hug. Here we are ten years later and he still lives at home, usually has a messy room, still fights about mowing the lawn, doing dishes, etc. The thing is, he really can move out and we remind him of that sometimes. We parents need leveraging no matter what age our kids are.

Some Random Pink Stuff

Just another day in paradise.......you know, I wake up, eat my Shredded Wheat and Bran cereal with chocolate soymilk, have a headache, take Excedrin and a handful of vitamins, clean house in my pjs, and some one knocks on my door at the early hour of noon. I'm still in my pjs, braless and feel the need to fold my arms. The choice is to either tuck them under my arms or hold them up with my arms. I should have practiced in the mirror to see which looks better. It's probably dangerous to do housework without a bra on anyway. But I didn't want to get that all sweaty and stuff anyway since they cost like $50.

Mimi announces, "It's Katie!"

I said, "Tell her to come in. COME IN, KATIE!" She says, "I CAN'T." So I come to the door, half tucked in, half tucked out (can't hide 'em) and she points behind her. Down my three stairs is a BABY CARRIAGE with her new adopted baby girl! So I had to go outside and show the neighbors, that yes, I am a pink maniac with a beer gut that is actually boobs without support, but who cares? It was a cute little precious bundle of perfect girlishness! She was asleep and looking so sweet. Now I have an excuse to go out and buy a cute pink outfit which will happen next Saturday because this one was shot.

I sang happy songs as I cleaned my toilet (or maybe I swore to familiar tunes) and had a meeting at the high school with the "Productions Director" to counsel her on colors. Did I mention my Ali is playing Gertrude McFuzz in "Suessical the Musical"? So it looks like my Tuesday night will be spent painting or detailing or something.

Then I took Ali to try on prom dresses at my friend's house and she is going to wear a very princessy pink dress. Daughter's just shouldn't look that cute at 17, they should wait until they are closer to breeding age, like 25. Especially, when she has a friend that she's been dating for the last eight months and has only graduated to boyfriend status two weeks ago. And you know how long it takes boys to mature. He's a sweet boy, but can he really last that long? Maybe I'll go to prom with them. That will be the true test. He has passed other tests, like he actually sang karaoke with me. And when I blamed him for leaving Mimi's Littlest Pet Shop toys all over the living room he said he wasn't finished playing with them. So he's quick, too. Maybe I could adopt him and make it really awkward.

To end my day I read all my favorite blogs and left brilliant comments on each of them. This is my world and I think they were brilliant. If I didn't leave a brilliant comment on yours, then let me know and I will rectify that.

Which brings me to my next topic (don't fall asleep yet) is HOW THE HECK do some people have so many followers? I read one un-named blog (not on my sidebar) with a gazillion followers and it was all about how wonderful they were and calling the readers names, which won't be repeated. I don't get it. "'Cause I'm so great and all you %$#(# love my butt!" Basically. I kinda get sick of that and un-follow their cocky butts. 'Cause I consider myself a friend and not a fan of some puffed up ego. Maybe none of you have ever visited blogs like that before. One power outage and POOF! Your fans are gone but your friends are here to stay. So I hope you didn't mind me bragging about my droopy boobs earlier.

Johnny is a Sociopath

When I was younger, not that long ago, I used to think you had to befriend everyone. I thought if you weren't friends with everyone, that made you judgemental. I don't think it was until I went to London and met some very strange characters that my eyes were opened.

I was very sad when I asked Ali (16) about one of her friends I'll call "Sue". She announced that they weren't friends anymore. "WHAT?" I love this girl! Ali then tells me, "She's making some bad decisions and I don't agree with her, so we're not friends anymore."

I'm seriously broken-hearted. This is the funnest, bubbliest, craziest girl ever. "What is she doing?"

"She's guaging her ears, drinking and making out with a new boy every weekend. I don't want people to think I'm like that," she said, confidently.

So here comes the judgement thought: "Sue needs a good friend like Ali now more than ever." Here comes the realistic thought: "A girl's gotta protect her reputation, and Sue knows better."

We had a family night and discussed an article in "The Friend", a children's magazine. I was reading it when all of those thoughts came to me. The story was about a boy who made friends with another boy who no one would play with in which I add as if part of the story (plus I was testing to see if anyone was listening) "because Johnny was a weirdo who grew up to be a pedophile." They were listening! My teens laughed. It went directly over my 8 year old's head.

"Does it say that?" Seth asks.

Of course, I'm cracking myself up hysterically. So sad, but I do laugh at my own jokes. But here's the point: You don't have to be friends with everyone. We have a little feeling inside that gives us alarms for certain people and there's a reason for that. You can be polite to everyone, but Johnny could be a sociopath, so don't go to the movies with him!

Pork Chopsh and Appleshaushe

Yesterday I woke up to Mimi wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt with Bobby Jack the monkey's face in rhinestones on the front. She had on jeans that she had folded just below the knee that created one giant cuff that covered most of her thigh. Instead of her flip flops she had tennis shoes with socks. On her head she wore Seth's red T-shirt sleeve that he tore off. She cut the edges so it created little curls on the end. She decided she was going to be a tomboy now that she looked the part.

She told me she likes sports. I told her you don't have to be a tomboy to like sports. "I know, but I'm still a tomboy, " she says. "Is dancing a sport?" I said yes. "I like ballet and hip hop" she announces, while attempting a combination of both. She looked quite"special" and that's the only way I can explain that. If you remember the "Solid Gold" dancers, she danced like that but on steroids.

Then she asked "Is hula hooping a sport?" I said, "Sure." " 'Cause I love hula hooping!" she said. Actually, everything she says ends in an exclamation point. I was wondering what I was going to do with all the pink clothes, accessories, bedding, etc. My baby has gone to the dark side.

This identity crisis reminded me of Peter Brady (Brady Bunch) when he had his identity crisis. He would experiment with different characters and he acted like Humphrey Bogart saying, "Pork chopsh and appleshaushe." I love that episode.

So I had this little talk about being yourself and not changing who you are, cause we love Mimi just like she is. By the end of the day she was our little pink dictator - I mean princess again. Then she was asking about getting a puppy. Her words were pouring out of her like.....Niagra Falls. I said, "Mimi. Quit talking so much." Her reply, "Then I would change who I am!"

I SAID, "QUACK!!!"

Last night I tossed and turned and couldn't sleep. Everytime I was conscious of my thoughts I had the children's song "Five Little Ducks" going through my head. Then, in one of my momentary lapses of sleep, I dreamed about singing that song with rubber duckies. I actually had twenty ducks and to speed it up I started making two at a time "come waddling back."

So this morning when that song was still going through my head (they call that "brain worms" when you can't get a song out of your head) I analyzed why that song. Probably because those duckies were obedient. When mother duck said, "Quack, Quack, Quack, Quack" they came waddling back.

My version would be: mother duck said, "Quack" and the ducklings ignored her so she threatened their little duck butts and took away duckie privileges. And then she held their little duckie heads under water until they were gasping for air and promised they would get a job, mow the lawn and pick up their underwear off the bathroom floor.